On my birthday I wished on my scars holding my Roses hoping soon I’ll exit Through the wounds and never look back
Life will fade just like the petals did now I can s b mell the odor of Dying roses but death didn’t turn them ugly I think they’re still beautiful a sweet sort of tiresome and sad Happy 18th Birthday to myself and so grateful for the dear souls who kept me warm and laughing when I got a bit sad
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